


fly off the edge

by wildlings (candybank)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, PWP, Suicidal Ideation, all i ever wanted was a sexy got7 pwp under 1k words and today i made my own dreams come true, explicit description of david carradine's death idk, for now..., he owns a private jet, i SWEAR its not that deep, ik the summary is aggressive but all is consensual here, pilot youngjae, rich music producer jaebum, u see where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/wildlings
Summary: if jaebum's life had a headline, it would read: millionaire music producer endangered cabin crew by forcing captain to put private jet on autopilot despite turbulence so they could fuck.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	fly off the edge

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway pls enjoy this pwp song fic happy new year(horny happy new year)

_heaven in her mouth, got a hell of a tongue_  
_i can feel her teeth when i drive on a bump_  
_fingers letting go of the wheel when i cum_  
  
_david carradine, imma die when i cum_  
_she just givin' head, she don't know what i've done_  
_like i'm james dean, imma die when i'm young_

“ _fuck. me_.”

his whole head shoved into the inside of a worn adidas duffel bag, jaebum groans and seriously considers slow death by asphyxiation. he wonders if this is how david carradine felt when he was in that closet, noose around his neck, tighter and tighter and _tighter_ until he couldn’t fucking breathe. it sounds like a dream. riding an orgasm into an early grave—that’s how jaebum wants to die. and it’s not even that he _really_ wants to die, not right now anyway, it’s just that he spends a lot of his time planning his own death and he has a kind of morbid curiosity about erotic fatalities and being buried young ala james dean and he’s so sure that he packed his hundred-something grams of prime grade-A travel cocaine in his bag and none of it is here and he wants to fucking kill himself.

so, maybe he _does_ want to die right now. it would be easy, he knows. he’s a few thousand kilometers up in the air in a private jet that he owns. option a: he could tell the flight attendants to open the emergency exit (“can i at least ask why, sir?” “because i want some fresh fucking air, mark. that’s why.”) then he could just jump right out. let gravity do its thing. option b: he could tell the pilot to crash the plane. for two billion won a year with full benefits, jaebum doubts youngjae will ask too many questions.

option c: youngjae.

jaebum chucks his old bag to the side with an unnecessary amount of force. something shatters, but he ignores it _and_ the blinking please-fasten-your-seatbelt signs on the wall and makes his way to the cockpit. from the corner of his eye, he sees the worry on mark’s face. he ignores that too.

he bangs on the cockpit door, and after a beat, it unlocks. 

“sir, please go back to your seat—”

“cut the shit, youngjae. come on, let’s go,” jaebum has all but left when youngjae’s incredulous laugh catches him.

“jaebum, i’m not kidding, we’re running into some turbulence and we need to ride it out safe. you want to land, don’t you?”

jaebum considers the safety of everyone on board for a moment, and only a moment.

he clicks his tongue.

voice low, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, he says, “turbulence isn’t really what i want to ride right now.”

youngjae has already taken his hands off of the wheel when he peels his eyes from the road to look at jaebum instead. jaebum tilts his head to one side—some kind of appeal, some kind of threat towards the cabin crew’s life—then he pushes his lips up into a quiet pout, and youngjae can already feel the blood leaving his brain.

he’s sure the weight of the atmosphere will make his head explode. air pressure. altitude. that’s how physics works, right? years of flight school and piloting aircrafts through thunderstorms should have taught him something about the way matter behaves. 

but it doesn’t matter now. jaebum never behaves.

and as well as he knows airline travel protocol, youngjae knows that jaebum likes to pretend he’s unpredictable—but if he's being totally honest, which he never really is, it’s too easy to push jaebum into the leather, to dim the lights, to pull at his clothes, at his hair, at his limbs, to fuck his mouth through chaotic changes in air pressure and flow velocity, to grab his hair and hold him still, to rock slow and steady.

the plane bumps into something cold and everything shakes. jaebum sputters when youngjae is pushed too far down his throat, and youngjae laughs through the pain of jaebum’s nails digging into ten layers of skin. “quiet, kitty,” he says, chuckling as he brushes his fingers through jaebum's hair. he lets jaebum pull back, pull away, saliva and precum dribbling down his chin. messy and obscene. youngjae loves how he looks, and he tells him.

gently, he brushes jaebum's overgrown hair from where it sticks with sweat onto his face, tucking the strands behind his ear, leaning down to kiss him.

“sorry,” jaebum says out of pure instinct. wordless, as if he knows words don't amount to much, he climbs up youngjae's body and straddles his hips. youngjae leans back, fingers ghosting over jaebum's thighs, the metal cross around his neck cold against his own chest. he watches, endearingly, as jaebum lowers himself onto him. watches his cock disappear between jaebum's thighs, watches jaebum lean forward and take a second to adjust.

“i should really go back—” youngjae says, as if he means it, breathless with the sight of it, all out of air with the feel of it. “we could crash, you know—” but jaebum moves his hips this way, that way, and it’s all youngjae can do not to crush jaebum’s bones where they lay between his bare hands. instead, he closes his eyes, pupils all the way back inside his skull. he drops his jaw to let the pressure out, moans soft against jaebum's more guttural exhales.

“ _fuck me_ ,” jaebum says, dirty and desperate and lonely and tired and addicted. begging for another dose, on his knees for just one more shot. and so youngjae injects himself into jaebum’s veins—a crude, disgusting analogy for ‘puts his dick in jaebum’s ass and comes inside him’, but jaebum so loves poetry.

 _valhalla is where all the_ _righteous are led_  
_moorhall is where all the damned will be kept_  
_devil on my lap and a cross on my neck_

_over 45, imma drift on a bend_  
_do a buck 20, imma fly off the edge_  
_everybody said it would hurt in the end_  
_but i feel nothing_

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i have this story set up as an actual 2youngjae fic so 90% sure i will update this but its a 2jae pwp for now xo also hey lets be twt mutuals [twt](https://twitter.com/jaebumlaurent)


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